


you set my soul alight

by aflashofgreen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Twilight Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Jon is Bella, Light-Hearted, PG-13 sexting, Romance, Sansa is Edward minus the self-loathing and existential angst, Vampires, the horniness is faithful to the source material, twilight au but we’re in college which explains the lack of drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflashofgreen/pseuds/aflashofgreen
Summary: “The normal reaction would be to run away screaming, not make jokes.”“I’m sorry to tell you this, but sparkling is hardly scary. It suits you, though.”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 74





	you set my soul alight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dollfacerobot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollfacerobot/gifts).



> For Sophia. If Midnight Sun isn’t announced in a few hours, at least here is this overly self-indulgent fluffy vampire POV? Only loosely inspired by Twilight.
> 
> Title from Supermassive Black Hole by Muse.
> 
> Edit: Thank you to velaharker on tumblr who went over my grammar.

Bran says it’s inevitable that Jon will find out the truth. The laws of her world forbid it, but Sansa finds herself playing along anyway, never leading him away from the right conclusions, seeking his company instead of evading him. Jon is smart, intuitive. He’s kind. He often gets flustered around her, and she enjoys it.

_“Do I dazzle you?”_

_“Frequently.”_

It’s his honesty she likes best, Sansa thinks. His thoughts have remained closed off to her — the first person she’s ever encountered whose mind she can’t read — and yet being with him is easy. Easier perhaps than with those who hold no mystery to her. It’s no surprise to find she’s sweet on him, yet another thing she should have discouraged from happening.

She can tell Jon likes her too, but who is indifferent to her charms? She wants him to see past the vampire allure and know her, truly know her almost as badly as she wants to know him. Sansa finally feels frustration in her inability to hear his thoughts, certain that if it weren’t for her supernatural condition, it’s Jon who would be keeping her up at night.

It’s not exactly ladylike, as defined by the etiquette of her original time period, to flirt so shamelessly. Courting, she might have called it once, but that’s her point — immortals learn to live with the present.

Sansa is so preoccupied with how to impress Jon, so happy to have his gaze focused on her as they walk on campus from one lecture to another. They’re exiting a building when he misses a step and her hand darts out to steady him, falling on his naked wrist. Jon instantly jumps away from her grasp, startled by the icy cold of her skin, she knows. His eyes meet hers in alarm and, really, it’s a silly expression he wears; she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. All at once, Sansa feels strongly how comical their situation is, how inadequate they both are, her more than him ironically. She’s supposed to be the seductive one, the confident, self-possessed vampire of the two. Any day could be the day she freaks him out at last and he pulls away. Because she isn’t human, not like him. As bewitching as her kind is, their charms have their counterbalances too. It’s his natural self-preservation instinct that made him recoil from her, his body reacting in fear to her, recognizing the danger before his brain does. And as much as she dreads the idea, Jon should be scared. _Her_ instinct dictates that she should hunt him, not befriend him.

But his surprise fades and Jon never runs in the end.

“You’ll catch frostbite if you don’t keep those fingers warmer. Shouldn’t a northern girl know that?”

All discomfort leaves her as suddenly as it came.

“You could offer to buy me a hot chocolate to warm me up.”

The café Jon brings her to a couple hours later is busy, patrons eager to escape the biting winds outside. They find a quiet spot in the back, his eyes lingering where her palms are pressed firmly around her mug, wondering how she can withstand it, she knows. There are two hot beverages on their table, but only Sansa can touch hers like that. By the time Jon is done sipping his drink, her hands have absorbed the warmth from hers, and she boldly reaches for Jon’s hand again. He doesn’t miss a beat this time.

“So no radioactive spider?” The interrogation on her true identity continues.

“Kryptonite doesn’t bother me either.” She swipes a thumb over his knuckles, her skin so pale in contrast to his.

“Damnit.” He laces their fingers together.

* * *

Sansa pulled Jon out of the way of an incoming car behind the History Department library. It had snowed during the night, the ground wet and icy by the morning. A blue Toyota was spinning wildly across the parking lot, inevitably heading towards Jon. Sansa left a dent in the car where she’d stopped it with her hands while Jon lay on the ground next to her, her body the only thing standing between him and the impact that should have cost him his life. That’s how it had started.

She doesn’t regret saving him, but it was not a wise decision. It wasn’t a decision at all in fact; Sansa hadn’t thought, she’d just moved. Several other students were in that parking lot, anyone could have been watching from the windows, anyone could have seen her. Jon certainly did, and even the entrancing spell of her eyes hadn’t been enough to persuade him that he was just confused, that he had hit his head too hard during the commotion, that he was in shock.

When she recounted the incident to everyone, Theon suggested killing him with none of the guilt or reluctance that the rest of them would have felt. He is the most recent member of their makeshift family and lived as a nomad for decades before joining them. Margaery elbowed him and, more reasonably, said they should move.

Until Bran spoke and told them they couldn’t.

“He won’t tell anyone,” was hardly a good justification for staying. The vision her brother had seen of her and Jon however…

Margaery quickly amended her previous suggestion. “You’re in love with him?” Her tone was more excited than it had any right to be. She looked happier than Sansa herself for whom this was as much of a revelation.

* * *

They’ve ventured into the forest the day her brother’s vision comes true at last. It’s not the first time they’ve gone hiking — Jon is outdoorsy, she discovered — but when they come to a halt at a random spot, Sansa recognizes the moss covered stones they sit on, can identify the faint noise of a squirrel moving in the tree above them because she’s heard it before. They all let her know what’s to come before it happens.

“Vampire,” Jon repeats. “Holy shit.” He catches himself and apologizes for the curse. “I just,” he stammers, “I was pretty confident I had it right, but…”

“ _Holy shit_ , I know. You don’t look scared,” she says tentatively.

“Are you planning to eat me?” With only a few words he manages to soothe her nerves, just like she knew he would.

“That’s a highly offensive thing to ask a vampire, I’ll have you know.” He chuckles while Bran’s vision plays in her mind. She watches Jon both through her own eyes and as the spectator of a familiar play. Steeling herself against cowardice, she becomes the actor who strives to make it a reality. Sansa takes a symbolic deep breath before continuing. “My family and I call ourselves vegetarians. We only hunt animals.” She bows her head in his direction. “Homo sapiens excluded. It explains my golden eyes. They’d be red otherwise. Black eyes only mean we’re thirsty.”

“What color were they originally?”

“Blue.”

“Yeah,” he says, gaze sweeping over her face and smiling. “I can picture that.”

Sansa really wants to kiss him then, lamenting the fact she can’t be impulsive. With him, she needs to be in control always. It’s just as well in the end, the anticipation making up for the delay. When they do kiss a few days later, it is lovelier than anything her mind had imagined.

“Was that alright?” She can’t help but ask when they part.

“Sansa, I’m the one who should be asking that,” he replies, breathless. “Your supernatural predisposition to execute everything perfectly puts me at a serious disadvantage.”

“Do you find it intimating?” The thought pleases her.

Her hands are still cupping his face. Jon hums in response to her sass, turning his head to press a kiss on the palm of her hand.

“Don’t,” she tells him softly. “This is all new for me. The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it.” She thinks back on the last days, on all their time together. All of her many short-lived feelings of infatuation too, how incomparable they are to what Jon has awakened in her. People in this age aren’t so prone to professing their love so quickly anymore, but Sansa can’t help it. “I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?”

“For me?” He paused. “No, never. Never before this.”

Jon’s had a girlfriend before, had a boyfriend. She fails to see how a relationship with so many restrictions could be better than anything he’s experienced in the past, but her lack of imagination doesn’t bother her when she wants so badly to believe him.

“Keep still now. I’m going to kiss you again.”

* * *

She’s standing in the sun.

Jon eyed her dubiously when they exited her car earlier, and she told him to climb on her back for the trek up the mountain. She had to find higher ground, somewhere the sky was clearer to show him what she meant about sunlight and its effect on her. It didn’t take too long, but when Jon’s feet had touched the ground again, he’d stumbled a little, dizzy. Perhaps she didn’t calculate her speed quite right. Thankfully, the color has returned to his face now.

“You shine like a million diamonds.”

“Not what you expected?”

He shakes his head, a look of shock and awe on his face. “I’m certain I couldn’t have guessed this.”

She steps away from the light, Jon seemingly snapping out of a trance as she does. Her sweater and coat lie on the ground where she’d discarded them so she could be in her jeans and t-shirt. Jon picks them up and hands them to her, clearing his throat.

“Don’t want to catch your death.”

“The normal reaction would be to run away screaming, not make jokes.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but sparkling is hardly scary. It suits you, though.”

“Well.” Her voice is momentarily muffled as she pulls the sweater over her head. “You don’t fit into my carefully researched assessment of the average twenty-four year old man either. And I collected data over decades before drawing a conclusion.”

“Don’t worry.” He reaches slowly for her, cautious not to surprise her with any sudden touches. Sansa stays still while he pulls her hair out from under her collar, thumb grazing her neck, and thinks if her heart wasn’t dormant, surely it would be fluttering now. “I’m sure it’s just a fluke on my part.”

* * *

Jon is so eager to know about her. She was a little reluctant to admit her age to him, but in the end she tells Jon her entire life’s story while he eats his lunch, listening intently. She starts with the most recent events, working her way back in time, explaining her presence in school at all and then telling him about the conversation with her family following the car incident. She tells him about knowing Theon for years, crossing paths with him several times until the day he showed up on their doorstep, ready to try out their “bohemian lifestyle” as he’d called it.

She tells Jon about finding Margaery close to death in the Appalachian mountains in 1997, drawn in by the smell of blood. The woman had been attacked by a bear while camping with her brothers, the only one still breathing albeit weakly. Sansa had carried her all the way to Brienne, holding her breath and willing herself to ignore the blood. Three days later, upon waking as an immortal, Margaery had called Sansa her angel.

The words escape Sansa to convey to Jon all the admiration she holds for Brienne, who had turned her too and guided her through her first years as a newborn. She tells him how her mentor had refused to hunt humans, determined to let herself waste away when she had exhausted all ways to kill herself. Until her growing thirst lead her to feed on a passing deer. Brienne is nearly desensitized to the smell of blood now and Jon laughs at the irony of a vampire being a doctor.

Finally, Sansa tells him about Brienne finding her and Bran in Scotland as they were dying from the influenza in 1918.

“Your parents?”

“They had already passed away. Our other siblings too.” She smiles then. “Arya would have liked you.”

“What was she like?”

She doesn’t remember much from her human life; memories fade when you’re turned, but she tells him everything she can recall. Arya’s boldness and hearty laugh and her honest eyes, that much like his, saw through everything and hid very little. Robb, who had made their parents proud when he’d earned his law degree, and joined Father’s firm in town. Her baby brother Rickon running after the dogs in the garden. Jon asks about her and Sansa mentions occupying her time with painting, having tea and visiting friends.

“And you didn’t have a fiancé? No boys vying for your hand?” He immediately worries he’s said the wrong thing because he tries to clarify the intention behind his questions with the next sentence. “It was the common thing for people our age to marry young back then. I didn’t mean to imply anything else.”

“There was one boy, but I doubt it would have been a successful union,” Sansa replies. “I’ve always been a dreamer; I think I liked the idea of him more than anything else.”

“What was his name?”

“I’ve forgotten. Don’t be jealous,” she teases. “He only stole one kiss from me and it wasn’t memorable evidently.”

“Margaery makes me more nervous than one forgettable boy.”

Even though his tone is light, Sansa doesn’t want him to harbor any silly ideas. “Nothing happened between us and nothing ever will. She and Brienne are perfect for each other. I shouldn’t even had told you anything; you keep asking me all these questions,” she chastises him. It’s only pretend however, because Sansa rather enjoys his interest in her. They’ve been sitting here for a while already, the dinig hall is emptying now and Jon has long ago finished his sandwich, but neither of them has a lecture for another hour. She brings her chair closer to his side so she can rest her head on his shoulder. “You are the only one who has ever touched my heart.”

Jon presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Smooth talker. You have more game than you know.”

“Perfect at everything I do,” she laughs. “You said it first.”

* * *

Jon shares an apartment with another college student so she usually sneaks into his room through the window. If she comes through the door, she’ll have to leave too early or stay the night. Sansa despises doing the former; she would much rather lie in Jon's arms until he falls asleep and not go before. As for the latter option, Jon says he doesn’t mind, but Sansa can’t quite get past her upbringing just yet, remembering gossip and ruined reputations over behavior that is perfectly acceptable in today’s society. No matter that she’s already engaging in such scandalous behavior by sharing a bed with her boyfriend even if she doesn’t spend the night. No matter that she is really curious to know what kind of sleeper Jon is, wondering if he tosses and turns, if he wakes up at the smallest noise or sleeps through the night or whether he mumbles in his dreams.

Jon laughs and calls her a creep when she tells him as much. It’s meant in jest, but he doesn’t understand what it’s like, though, to be unable to sleep. It’s the one thing she misses from her human life, the one she envies him so badly, wishing she could fall asleep beside him and dream again. After she tells him that, Jon starts texting her about his nighttime visions every morning.

_Took childhood pet Ghost to fancy dog park. Fancy bc it looked suspiciously like Versailles gardens??_

_Was late to meet w somebody. Never made it there, never found out who_ , accompanied by the confused face emoji.

Sometimes his text simply reads _dreamt of u_ and it’ll send her thoughts running wild. Sometimes it’s slightly longer, something like _I was kissing u everywhere_ or _you stayed the night and kept me up_. She feels stupidly embarrassed. Stupidly because these are his dreams, not hers. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and yet she swears she can feel her cheeks flame each time she greets him on campus later that day, despite knowing it’s impossible for her to blush.

However curious Jon makes her, she’s not so far gone that she forgets about prudence. He proves to be patient, remembering this is for his sake more than hers regardless of her inexperience. But Sansa can’t stop thinking about his arms around her, his dark curls between her fingers, his soft lips on hers. She doesn’t need to be reminded of her beauty, but Jon doesn’t seem to realize how handsome he is too. Jealousy flares up inside of her at hearing some of the thoughts he inspires in others.

“I don’t need to read minds to know every single person on the planet despises me for being the one who gets to date you. I can’t believe you’re jealous.” He chuckles, incredulous.

“You're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.” His arms hold her closer, their chests firmly pressed together.

“I know. And if you ever leave me…” She drops her voice to her most menacing tone, her mouth close to his ear. “I’ll just have to drain you of your blood after all.” She punctuates her warning by swiftly placing a delicate bite on his bare shoulder, before pulling back to watch his reaction. Jon can’t quite control the slight look of fear that crosses his features, and Sansa delights in hearing the frenzied rhythm of his heartbeat.

He recovers when he notices her smile. “You want to give that another try?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

A hand reaches out to cup the back of her head, but Jon doesn’t bring her mouth down to his just yet. Instead, he raises his chin to whisper against her lips. “Tell me what you want. I’d do anything for you, Sansa.”

He only ever speaks the truth.

* * *

“Do you want to stop?”

“I just…” Jon is panting above her, understanding in his eyes.

“Need some air,” he finishes her sentence, chuckling to himself as he lies down next to her, amused by his own joke. Sansa turns on her side to look at him, her eyes trailing down his body to stop on the bulge in his pants. The press of it against her had felt sweet and all too much for the need it inspired inside of her. It’s not the first time she’s felt it. Jon makes her wish for dangerous things all too often, things she’s barely accustomed to thinking of without shame.

“What’s on your mind?”

“That’s my line,” Sansa protests, tearing her eyes away from his crotch to look at his face. “I’m thinking how you’ll manage to make me blush one of these days.”

“I’ll take on that challenge.” He smiles.

“It’d be easier for you. This. It would be easier with anyone but me.” She reaches out a hand to move a curl away from his face, brushing the hair by his temple. “I don’t even know what I’m going without and I find it a struggle, but you do.”

“I don’t want easier.” His fingertips softly stroke her extended arm. “I take care of myself until you do,” Jon tells her, looking her in the eyes.

Her mouth feels dry. She knows masturbation is a healthy activity that men and women alike engage in. Sansa has never thought of it as particularly appealing, but the thought of Jon doing it is only another reason she’ll reconsider.

“You’re the only one I ever think of.”

She forgets to breathe while listening to him tell her all the ways he imagines her. In the end, Jon actually has a real memory to think back on later.

* * *

_“I’ve had plenty of crushes, but I never really acted on my feelings until I met you.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Whatever path I took, you found your way in my future. It’d never happened before.”_

_“So it’s fate.”_

_“No, it’s more than that. Our stories aren’t written in advance. We make our choices and…”_

_“I chose you every time.”_

_“And I chose you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve read the novels, you’ll recognize some bits I’ve paraphrased, but the following are all direct quotes from Twilight by Stephenie Meyer:
> 
> “Do I dazzle you?” “Frequently.”
> 
> "The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, [isn't it,] the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it[?] I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?" "For me? No, never. Never before this."
> 
> "You're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh."
> 
> "You are the only one who has ever touched my heart" is from Eclipse by the same author.


End file.
